<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>a real boy (like me) by Anonymous</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674794">a real boy (like me)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Play, Diapers, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Soft Aiden (The Witcher), Soft Guxart (The Witcher), Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Soft Vesemir (The Witcher), Soft Witchers (The Witcher), could be read either way really</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:21:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674794</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiden was a good caregiver to little Lambert, and he enjoyed it, he really did. But some offers are too tempting to resist, so when Guxart asks him to play the part of "baby" for Lambert to play "daddy" with, well, he was curious.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden &amp; Guxart (The Witcher), Aiden/Guxart (The Witcher), Aiden/Guxart/Lambert/Vesemir (The Witcher), Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Guxart/Vesemir (The Witcher), Lambert/Vesemir (The Witcher)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a real boy (like me)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aiden loved taking care of baby Lambert — fussed and cooed over him, tickled his belly when he changed his their diaper, but there were these little moments, Vesemir and Guxart noticed, where it looked like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span>: He’d get a far away look in his eyes as he smoothed the cloth of the Lambert’s nappy, or he hugged his knees to his chest as he watches Lambert being fed, nipping at the knee of his trousers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They could hardly broach the subject; neither of them were particularly close to the young man, he was there simply because Lambert wanted him there. So, not knowing what else to do, they ask Lambert what he thought of Aiden, in the capacity of  a… caregiver, they supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean, I like him.” He shrugged as he got dressed. He’d been with his papa and daddy all day, but now, feeling distinctly more adult, and having just had a bath, he was getting ready to spend the night with his younger lover instead. “He’s fun to play with, you know, when we’re doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he admitted, the faintest shade of pink brushing his cheeks. He kissed them goodnight, and unwittingly left them to formulate a plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, they tried to form one, but nothing seemed right — the last thing they wanted was to screw up and scare Aiden off — their little boy would never forgive them. Lucky for them, the perfect opportunity seemed to present itself just a few days later; Lambert started playing “daddy” — tying makeshift nappies to his soft toys, pretending to feed them, talking to them softly, dancing around with them gently as if lulling them to sleep; gave them a truly startling amount of baths and diaper changes, which, they supposed, smiling sheepishly at each other, made all too much sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It persisted for a few days, and finally they sat him down and asked if he wanted them to show him how to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> daddy. He nodded enthusiastically, but also asked them what they meant, how that would work. He was after all, just a little boy, and there it’s not like he could practice on </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you could practice on another little boy, and we could tell you what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we don’t know any other little boys.” he pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm,” Guxart stroked his chin, affecting thoughtfulness. “Aiden’s a good friend to you, isn’t he? Do you think he’ll let you practice on him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure if Aiden would, but the idea of his closest friend, (his lover, his everything,) being in diapers just like him was... thrilling. Lambert shrugged and went back to looking at his toys. It was all the encouragement they needed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.o.O.o.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guxart broached the subject with Aiden alone — he was never as close with the kittens as Vesemir is with his pups, but Lambert’s sure as hell wasn’t going to do it, and he was next in line, technically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, essentially, you want me to be a training dummy for him?” he asked once Guxart had finished making his proposal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, sort of. He’s just playing really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’m his doll?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like that.” The smile Guxart wore strongly suggested he was up to something, but Aiden just rolled his eyes. You can’t keep old Cats from their tricks, or something like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a compelling notion, if you were being honest; he would do anything to make his Baby Wolf happy, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat curious about how it might feel, and really, he couldn’t think of anyone better to explore it with than Lambert — his Lambert, his closest friend, his lover, his everything.   So, he agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first day, Guxart and Vesemir had to admit, might have been a bit of a… well not a mistake, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Everything with Lambert had happened so organically, they didn’t stop to consider how different things would be with Aiden — because both the boy himself, and the circumstances as a whole were entirely different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They used the out of the way room they’d restored and refurbished a few years ago; there was a changing table, a couch, a rocking chair, a chest of toys, soft furs and a thick carpet. It was a room they were all comfortable in, but Aiden felt nervous when he entered, not least because the other three were all sort of just standing around and looking at him, and because Lambert was obviously nervous too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger man was changed into a nappy first, Vesemir kissing him as he went, and finishing with a raspberry on his tummy. Lambert relaxed noticeably under the soft attention, and then it was Aiden’s turn. He climbed up on the table and gave Lambert an encouraging smile, wiggling his hips cheekily to make him laugh. He could hear Vesemir talking his Lamb through the process, but he kept all his attention on Lambert’s face, and the touch of his hands, focused and gentle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what he expected to feel exactly, but he was entirely unprepared for the flood of emotion in his chest — a mixture of happiness, adoration, and a sort of gratefulness for how much he was clearly loved. It was hard to breathe, and harder to see, his eyes going suddenly blurry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy, papa, what’s wrong?” Lambert asked, the edges of panic clear in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir stepped a little closer, but otherwise kept his demeanour the very definition of calm. “I think he’s just overwhelmed, baby, you remember how it felt in the beginning, don’t you?” He was prepared to step in before the situation spun out of control entirely, but Lambert, for all his worry, remained dedicated and undeterred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay Aiden,” he said softly, slowly rubbing the other man’s stomach, kneading his hips and flanks in that deeply soothing way Guxart always did. “I’m here,  I’m going to take care of you, if that’s okay?” He asked, growing suddenly unsure. But Aiden nodded and reached up towards him, knowing only that he wanted to hide in Lambert’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert held him to his chest, and cooed over and over again </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s okay Aiden, it’s okay, I’m here for you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> until the tears, and the fine trembles that had been running though his body both stopped. “Is it okay if Papa carries you? The couch is much nicer but I’m too little.” Aiden nodded again, and let Vesemir carry him to the couch, and carefully lay him down, his head resting on a waiting Lambert’s lap. He hid his face in Lambert’s stomach, again focusing solely on the feel of the other man, his hands running delicately up and down his spine, carding through his hair, stroking his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell into a light sleep, and woke up shortly after feeling better, more like himself, if a little awkward. They called it a day. Lambert helped Aiden out of his nappy and Guxart helped Lambert out of his while Aiden got dressed. Determining that nothing was about to go to shit, the older Witchers left their younger counterparts alone for the time being, telling them to go down for dinner as soon as they were ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that alright?” Lambert asked, glancing up at Aiden before looking down and to the side again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Aiden smiled, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. “You were great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went down to eat with everyone else, hung around for a bit after and played a few rounds of Gwent. They slept in Aiden’s room that night, with Lambert sprawled across Aiden’s chest. He fell asleep almost instantly, his light snores filling the cozy room, and Aiden held him, idly playing with his hair, scratching his neck, as he thought about that afternoon, replaying every second of it in his mind until at last sleep took him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.o.O.o.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It went on like that for weeks: everyday during Lambert’s playtime, he would let the younger man “practice” on him. It was just the diaper at first, worn under his clothes while he and Lambert cuddled and took a nap. Somedays Lambert wanted to play more than he wanted to sleep, and Aiden indulged him, as he always did, and they played with wooden blocks and figurines, play wrestled and chased each other around the room, all under the watchful eyes of Lambert’s papa and daddy. In short, it was exactly how they spent the last few winters, except now Lambert was putting a diaper on, and fussing over Aiden, instead of the other way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> any different either, apart from the soft padding between his legs and around his bottom, Aiden supposed he didn’t feel all that different. Perhaps a little cozier, a little more relaxed now that he was afforded a break from being responsible, but largely the same, all in all. Though, he admitted, being carried from one spot to another by one of the older Witchers </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a new experience. It was fairly pleasant, he wouldn’t call it life altering, or anything. And neither was being bottle fed, which was a thing that started happening, because Lambert wanted to try it, and that was the whole point of this exercise, wasn’t it? Aiden was just a living doll for Lambert to play “daddy” with a few hours a day. He even started calling him </span>
  <em>
    <span>dolly</span>
  </em>
  <span> — when he was putting him in </span>
  <span>his</span>
  <span> a diaper, when he was giving him a bottle, when he bathed him and dressed him and brushed his hair. Aiden didn’t mind, it was just a game, it didn’t mean anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Aiden didn’t mean for it to happen. They hadn’t talked about it yet, you see, and so far they had had very sober conversations about </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>before it happened. He didn’t mean to do it, but he was more than half asleep, and nice and warm, all bundled up next to the fireplace, next to Lambert, a bottle full of milk and honey sitting comfortably in his belly. Some vague part of him knew that it was too much, that he had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so he did, not realising that he had, in fact, stayed perfectly still. A new warmth bloomed under his clothes, curiously wet, and he couldn’t figure out </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> until—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aiden?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Guxart walked over from where he had been reading, crouching down so he could better see the blushed pink face poking out from the furs. “Did you have an accident, baby?” He asked, his voice soft, so as not to disturb Lambert, and gentle. Aiden nodded slowly in response, still struggling to wake up. “Should I wake Lambert up to change you, or may I have that pleasure?”  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pleasure</span>
  </em>
  <span> seemed a bit like an over statement, but Lambert had never changed a diaper that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>soiled</span>
  </em>
  <span> before, and Aiden didn’t like the thought of it, so he jerked his head in the old Cat’s direction; </span>
  <em>
    <span>you do it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Guxart smiled at him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>purred</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he lifted him up and felt the sodden weight of his nappy against his arm. “Such a good boy you are,” he murmured as he laid Aiden down on the changing table, “using your diaper like a good baby without even being asked. Do you have anymore for me, baby?” He asked, rubbing small circles into Aiden’s stomach, pressing against his bladder. His eyelids flickered as a little more came out, and they reopened just in time for him to see Guxart smiling down on him.</span>
  <em>
    <span> This</span>
  </em>
  <span> surely was an unusual experience, but it wasn’t — he didn’t feel — well it was alright, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir came in while Guxart was changing him, stopped short momentarily, then walked over, coming to hover by Aiden’s head. “Did you wet yourself, darling?” he asked, a hand tentatively reaching to touch Aiden’s head. The young man didn’t flinch or shy away, so he dove in, scritching his scalp and tousling silky blonde locks. “Is daddy doing a good job changing you?” Guxart was a great deal more practiced than Lambert, and it showed; there was no hesitation as his hands deftly removed the wet nappy, gently but thoroughly cleaned his skin, applied balm and powder. He didn’t ask if Aiden wanted another one, just secured a clean piece of thick, padded fabric to his bottom as he drifted off, soothed by the soft, deliberate attention he was being given. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was barely awake when he was carried back to the nest of furs by the fireplace, but he felt himself being tucked in, and he felt a glowing sort of warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.o.O.o.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still floating when he entered the playroom the next day, though he didn’t notice until he came crashing down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy,” Lambert said, tugging on the sleeve of Guxart’s shirt, “I don’t want Aiden to be my doll anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three men froze, Guxart’s and Vesemir’s attention snapped to Aiden; they almost looked as embarrassed as he did. “What do you mean, baby?” Guxart asked, turning back to Lambert. Aiden started to say that it was fine, but was cut off by Lambert’s answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just think it would be better if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> looked after him, so he can be a real boy,” he said, then suddenly shy, looked down as he mumbled, “like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Aiden’s eyes darted nervously between the older me as he spoke, “Lambert, sweetheart, I don’t think—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should talk,” Vesemir interjected, sharing a look with Guxart that was half amused and half sheepish.  The old Wolf set the little one up by the fire with some carved wooden animals, and Guxart took Aiden by the elbow, and guided him to the couch on the other side of the room. He put a large hand and the smaller Cat’s knee, squeezing it reassuringly while they waited for Vesemir to join them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose, I should start by saying that we haven’t been completely honest with you.” Guxart started, once he hand his Wolf at his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Aiden asked — trilled, his voice pitched with nervousness, heat prickling up the back of his neck. At the very least, the older Witchers had the decency to look as embarrassed as he was, if not more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, the thing is, we thought you might enjoy being looked after, like Lambert, but we didn’t think you’d try it unless we told you it was  </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lambert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” They were right, he supposed, on all accounts. He just wasn’t sure what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> with any of it. “So…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Guxart continued, determined, apparently, to take the lead with the kitten, as Vesemir often did with their puppy. “If you would have us, Aiden, we’d be honoured to take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” was all Aiden managed to say. Looking down at his hands, his face grew warm as he thought of all the times he watched Guxart and Vesemir with Lambert, and the yearning he felt. He thought of how it felt to be swaddled, to not have a care in the world. He thought of how it felt just the day before, with those large, warm hands cleaning him, taking care of him, and he wondered how it would feel like, those hands petting him, rubbing his back, combing his hair, tickling his tummy, bathing him, cradling him, feeding him — there was so much he wanted to know. “If you’re sure?” he said, looking up at them hopefully from under long lashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than sure.” Vesemir affirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why doesn’t daddy change you?” Guxart — </span>
  <em>
    <span>daddy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> asked tentatively. “And then you can go play with Lambert?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, Aiden nodded, and reached out for the man in front of him. A smile broke across both their faces — his new daddy’s, and papa’s, and he was carried over to the changing table. Just like yesterday, daddy did most of the work while papa hovered by his head and watched, but this time it seemed to go slower; papa played with his hair, and light stroked his cheek, his brow, and daddy rubbed his stomach, and massaged his legs, and blew a raspberry on his tummy when he was done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, when he was all nice and cozy in his nappy, he was carried over to and set down by the hearth, with Lambert. The other little boy happily clambered onto his hands and knees, lurching forward to softly kiss Aiden’s face. And daddy and papa watched, smiling warmly, almost unbearably full affection, with papa’s arms wrapped around daddy’s waist, and daddy holding him right back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you know,” Vesemir said lowly in Guxart’s ear, half a laugh in his voice, “they’re going to be a riot.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated ♥️</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>